DWI court succeeds by keeping keen eye on offenders

Jason Rivall was wasted again and in his basement when his mom called Hennepin County District Judge John Holahan a couple of years ago, pleading with him to do something about her son.

"I threw up my hands; I didn't know what to do," Holahan recalled last week in court. Then he acted: He sentenced Rivall to two years in jail for violating his probation on a couple of drunken-driving convictions.

It paid off. Rivall has since become "a shining star," Holahan said.

While others nursed holiday hangovers, Rivall celebrated two years of sobriety, receiving his medallion from Holahan at a ceremony in court. Although Rivall is no longer under the court's supervision, the event was part of a tightly supervised driving-while-intoxicated (DWI) court. The judge and a passel of professionals are one year into a pilot program for Minneapolis residents only.

Rivall, 25, of Maple Grove, is part of a similar DWI court Holahan runs on Thursday mornings for Hennepin County residents.

A decision on whether to begin a full-scale countywide DWI court is at least a year off, but Holahan, who celebrated 30 years of sobriety last summer, likes what he sees, as do other participants and observers.

The aim of the specialized court is to reduce the 7,500 annual drunken driving cases in Hennepin County by getting court officers involved with repeat offenders who are chemically dependent. Drunken-driving statistics show that second-time offenders are likely to commit a third offense and be chemically dependent. First-timers and felony contenders don't qualify for the court. Similar courts are established in St. Paul and other parts of the state.

So far, the judge sees 34 people on Thursdays and 30 on Fridays. He started a year ago with four. Although many have stumbled in their recovery by drinking again, no one has yet been charged with a new drunken-driving offense -- a statistic lauded by Chief Judge Lucy Wieland. "To that degree, even after this short period of time I would call it a success," she said.

Requirements are strict

Participants are subject to random visits from law enforcement officers, must attend treatment and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, perform community service and submit to frequent urinalysis tests. Some earn renewal of driving privileges but get ignition interlock devices on their vehicles that won't let the car start if the driver surpasses a minimal level of alcohol in a breath test. In exchange, defendants avoid jail time.

Sharon Gehrman-Driscoll, director and victim advocate for Minnesotans for Safe Driving, attends court most Fridays and knows the stories of the defendants. She said she has been pleasantly surprised with the results.

"My life has always been about wanting to throw the pigs in jail," Gehrman-Driscoll said. "But if we can keep them off the bottle, then we won't see them back in the courtroom."

Gehrman-Driscoll wants to see at least another six months of experience before determining what changes might be needed to the court.

One tweak already has been made. "In the beginning, we welcomed people with open arms. We figured early on, there were a number of people coming in to try to get out of the mandatory minimum jail sentence," Holahan said. "Now, you're on a 30-day trial before we decide whether to accept you."

No magic, but lots of heart

George Barber, 39, of Minneapolis celebrated nine months of sobriety Friday with a healthy glow to his skin and a big smile on his face. "Man, this really works if you put forth 100 percent effort," he said. "Let me tell you, I'm the last person who ever thought I could be sober nine months of my own accord."

Holahan mixes tough love with his personal history, telling one woman who had trouble sleeping that once his idea of a nighttime sleep aid was to down a 12-pack of beer. The stories get some laughs, but there have also been sad times when everyone was on the verge of tears -- for instance, after a participant drank after months of sobriety.

One Minneapolis man seemed an early success story despite a troubled background. But he fell back into smoking crack cocaine again. He bolted from the courtroom last summer and hasn't been seen since.

"What I haven't figured out yet is the magical way to get everybody sober," the judge said. "For some people it's two steps forward and one step back."

When defendants get their medallions, they address the others in the program. Rivall talked about God, meetings, family support, his sponsor and self-reflection.

DWI court helped motivate him, but "it has to come from here," he said, placing his right hand over his heart. "Nothing else matters."

Rochelle Olson • 612-673-1747